(A Kyrielle Sonnet)
The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
one Christmas day where one was killed.
Sweet daughter they would not see grow
left crimson blossoms on the snow.
What horror that their girl could be
slain senselessly beneath that tree
where every spring she loved to go
and blossoms fell, but not on snow.
The tree of which she’d grown so fond
dropped pearl white petals on a pond.
Oh, that it still were long ago
before were blossoms on the snow!
The tree stood trembling; red drops spilled
like cherry blossoms on the snow.
For Your "Saddest" Christmas Ever
Contest sponsored by Constance La France
~a Rambling Poet~
There was a plantation of fir trees
for some unknown reason, most of them
were three to four years old but one
It was only in its first year of growth
When Christmas drew near, the loggers came
and started to cut down some of the oldest
The little fir asked what is going on?
the other trees said its Christmas time
They will be taken into people's homes
then they will be decorated and lit up
parcels at their feet sharing the joy
of Christmas, a real honour to be chosen
I want to be a Christmas tree said the fir
you are much too young and far too little
they take most trees when they are four
you will have to wait and do some growing
I want it to be spring it said not winter
then I will be able to grow big like you
soon the loggers had finished cutting down
now there were large gaps in the rows
The little fir thought lots of sun helps
at last the spring came and with it growth
the little fir stretched as high as it could
filling out as it reached upwards for the sun
In the morning men came and started to plant
soon there were lots of little trees around
one worker said strange there is one little one
should we cut it down, no leave it to grow bigger
The little fir grew all through the summer
enjoying the hot lazy days while it could
it saw many changes over the weeks and months
as autumn passed away the land cooled down
Then came the snows of winter, a blizzard or two
the snow lay heaped around the little fir's roots
It will soon be time for the loggers to come
then all us four year old's will be Christmas trees
I wish I could be a Christmas tree like all of you
you will have to grow a lot more before they take you
the little tree sighed, it so badly wanted to be one
next day the loggers came and took the older trees
Once more the rows looked very bare and also bleak
the little tree hunkered down to wait for spring
then one day a little girl and her dad came
they walked down the rows looking at all the trees
That one she shouted dad, pointing at the little fir
it is rather small, would you not like a bigger one
no, no, said the little girl that one is perfect
I can reach to do most of the decorating of it's branches
Fantastic thought the little tree, I am a Christmas tree
they gently cut it down and carried it to their truck
when they got home they put some growth power on the base
and planted it in a great big pot that was a shiny red
The tree looked around the room in awe struck wonder
there were flashing lights around the snowy windows
cards strung over the fire mantle so very colourful
streamers hung from corner to corner looking so gay
Then they started to put baubles, tinsel and lights
and a lovely angel to go on the top it felt so good
at last the little fir would know what Christmas
was like, it watched all the fun as the presents
Were passed around and eagerly opened with sighs
and shouts of delight, the tree smiled at their joy
now finally they sat down and ate their dinner
with many toasts being passed, at last it was over
Then next day they took the little fir outside
and put it in a cold frame to protect it for the winter
oh wow it thought I will be a Christmas tree again next year
and so the little fir tree got it's dearest wish
contest Tell Me A Story
With out any
leaves, to shed
in the fall. Standing
firm, until winter comes.
Then I hear someone say
"Yes, I think that's the one!"
Out comes the saw, and they begin
to cut me down. For the sake of a season,
I'm removed from the ground. Placed in a home
and all frilled up. Filling my branches with shinny things,
also a star on top. A couple of weeks later I begin to feel the pain.
No longer getting nourishment from my roots, and my life begins to fade.
I am a simple
tree, that is
used a couple
weeks of the
sap you see, is
of tears. When
I hear the saw
I am filled with
Hoping you will
tree like me, as
you take my life.
For it is truly
the only thing,
that I feel
Danny Boy: 10-18-13 :*(
Christmas home decor
Short and round is our Christmas wreath
Wreath we made of the tree branches
Branches are tied with the red ribbons
Ribbons stuck with berries,ready is the wreath.
Wreath is placed on our door’s foot steps
Steps away is the snow on tree not far
Far away, look, how He laid His holy hands
Hands on things He wants us to see and praise.
Praise him, be quick your voice to raise
Raise your hands his love to receive
Receive love in your every choice forever
Forever on Christmas with this decor wreath.
This type of poetry was first introduced by George Herbert, a contemporary
of Shakespeare. There are two ways to write it. In above poem, the last
word of the first line is the first word of the next line and so on. Or one
may use any word of the first line as the first word of the next line. Variations
of the word can also be used.
Love is a season
And holidays mark the seasons, like signs in the road
Reflecting the bumps in our journey, but showing us a way back home...
Sixteen, in pajamas, watching the rain pelt down
It was long past midnight, Christmas eve
Twinkling lights on one house across the road, stared back at me
It was if they were trying to fill our void with color
The block was filled with a hundred black windows
And the blackness somehow seemed more appropriate
There was no Christmas tree in our house this year
I suppose Dad felt it was too soon, or perhaps just the effort to get through each day
had taken all the strength he had...
We had stayed up and watched a Christmas program together...
It was Perry Como, I think....somehow I remember how he sang "Ava Maria"...
My brother had come home from the Air Force earlier that week
He had helped bring us a bit of cheer....at least for awhile...
but he had been called back to duty, and I missed him terribly...
The house was silent after Dad had gone to bed
I wasn't sleepy....and it was lonely looking out at the cold night
It seemed the whole world was sleeping,
getting ready for the sun to shine on Christmas morning...
I started to head for bed, but noticed a light had been left on in the front coat closet
I opened the door, and looking up, to pull the chain, I noticed the box...
The little box that kept the sugar cube house
It was one that Mom and I had made together when I was 8 years old...
Little sugar cubes stacked into walls and a roof, glued together with red frosting.
We had copied one out of her Ladies' Home Journal....surrounding it with little trees, and
people skating on a mirror for a pond, things we had found at the 5 and 10 cent store
Carefully packed away last year, on Mom's last Christmas....
Throughout the night, I sat in the dimness of the house, laying out the sugary scene on the
fireplace mantel....as Mom would have done .
When the freckled morning moved into day...
I woke on the sofa...Dad sitting next to me. He had covered me with a warm blanket.
He held me and we cried together.
After breakfast....he disappeared outside, and soon came in carrying a sorry looking branch
from our old evergreen tree.
We decorated that bedraggled branch...it wasn't the most beautiful tree we had ever had
But it brought Christmas back to my family...
For Constance La France's contest "Your Saddest Christmas Ever"
Dear Alan Titmarsh, how are you.
I do hope you and everyone else, enjoyed themselves at the do.
If you are ever in Ruddington,could you please give me a hand.
I’m trying so hard to create a garden, with a matchbox sized piece of land.
I don’t seem to have green fingers at all.
All the heads of the flowers, just jump off, when I’m playing football.
Everything I touch, and try to grow, seems to shrivel up and die.
It doesn’t seem to matter, just how hard I try.
Today I have just planted the Christmas tree in a tub,
I hope it doesn’t get some awful bug .
I want it to grow, but everyone keeps telling me it will die.
If it does I will cry.
Next Christmas I want this tree outside with fairy lights on it.
But if it dies my husband will bin it.
Yesterday I planted 100 bulbs all in tubs
But they will probably go to Australia or get eaten by grubs.
Last week I watch the secret garden on TV,
That is how I really want mine to be.
So please can you come and give me a hand,
And create me a beautiful garden, with this matchbox size piece of land.
The fog rolls in surrounding me,
My hand before me, I barely see.
A heaviness as moisture clings to the air,
Ghost like shadows from trees that are bare.
I walk forward I don’t want to look back,
I grab a new card from off of the stack.
I think of it like turning over a new leaf,
I take a deep breath and hope for relief.
I turn the corner there are lights shining bright.
Blue lights resonate and glow in the night.
A Christmas tree lit, entirely in blue,
Like a beacon in the fog it shines right through.
The Christmas tree lights shine much like my hope,
I try to break free with some slack in the rope.
They bring a smile and fill me with content,
As the fog thickens the lights don’t relent.
They seem to glow within the fog,
I lose my bearing as I trip on a log.
I feel like a ghost upon a canvas of white,
It all disappears within the confines of night.
I hear a bell from a church on the hill,
Its haunting sound from what was still.
It seems to call to me to just forge on.
All of a sudden the ringing is gone.
I stand in darkness just me and the fog,
Something awakens, memories it jogs.
I think of my journey and all I’ve been through,
What has been done and what’s left to do.
It hasn’t been easy though it’s not bad.
I have fond memories of great times I’ve had.
Still something’s missing as I look for the door,
I know it can’t be like it was once before.
The winds picks up, adds a chill to the air.
It awakens my senses so I really don’t care.
I stand at the threshold to the future and past.
I will simply step outside, the shadows it casts.
We were so pathetic our first year of marriage. They say that being poor builds character, maybe that explains it.
We were married way too young to ever have much money,
The thought of spending for a Christmas tree seemed to be too funny.
We decided that we would do without to save cash on which to live,
Because the cost of even a meager tree was more than we could give.
One night on my way home from work I followed a tree barring truck,
A pothole hit and a tree flew off it seemed I’d had some luck.
I took it home to my new bride and the sight lit up her eyes,
She decided to make decorations for this Christmas tree surprise.
So while I went to find a stand, she started to pop some corn,
She took a needle and threaded them and soon the tree adorned.
She cut out cardboard stars and bells in foil they then got covered,
I set the tree up in its stand and that’s when a problem was discovered.
There was something wrong with the trunk of our little Christmas tree,
It curved so badly that when it stood up it made the letter “C”.
Without some help it couldn’t stand so to the top we tied a rope.
To the closet rod it got fastened to hold it upright was our hope.
When the door to the closet slid shut tight the tree stood proud and tall,
With its aluminum decorations and popcorn strands it really had it all.
When we opened the door to get our coats the rope would always slack,
And the little tree would bow to us and we would bow right back.
Many years have passed since then and now our house is full of trees,
But none of them are as polite as our first that was so eager to please.
The Christmas Tree
The many branches
Favorite spruce and pine boughs
Home made popcorn garlands
A beautiful tall evergreen tree
The many bright lights twinkle brightly
Spheres of the rainbow coloured balls and pretty bows
The ringing of golden bells on the exquisite tree branches
Many home made decorations cookies and candy canes and cakes
The tall nutcracker nearby standing tall beside the beautiful christmas tree
Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
Its Christmas time again and the bustle is on ,
cleaning the house, bring out the new stuff
A touch of paint over there, I’m almost done,
The lights are up, tree fully decorated, My place is decked out !!
In the early Christmas morn, the gifts I lay beneath the tree,
Everything is in place……Ohhhh, what a beautiful sight to see!
Now retired to bed, pleased as could be
He spoke - and it caused me to look at the thing I did not see
I’ve cleaned and prepared my house for the day
In the midst of this, have I done the same with life in any way?
The scripture rang loudly in the blanket of the quite morn-
“A child is born and a Son is given”- am I ready to receive this gift that’s given?
All the lights I’ve hung, He’s the light of the world
The ornaments on the tree, He’s so precious to me
This tree that stands in my hall so tall
Upon a tree he hung, offered vinegar mingled with gall……
My responsibility right now, is share what’s been offered to me
If you did not have lights or decorated a tree, Could not buy a gift, or just didn’t know the story…
Jesus is the gift that’s waiting for you
Yes, you can receive Him, its long overdue
Just open up your heart, he’ll make it brand new
Take a moment to ponder-
Christmas is celebrating what Jesus has done for you !!!
12/15/11 revisited 12/17/12